Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Are you sure it's safe to drive?” Jisung asked, tugging on the sleeve of his sweater as he followed Minho out to the car.

The New York City streets were wet, piles of partially melted snow and muddy slush collected on the sides of the sidewalk where plows and shovels had tossed snow after the initial fall. But still, even though the roads were wet and slushy, Minho had told Jisung time and time again that, “The snow here is nowhere near as bad as it is in Vermont.” And the forecast had called for a large snowstorm, only getting worse as they got closer to where Minho lived in northern Vermont. 

“Relax Sungie, I’ve been driving in snow since I was like sixteen, it’s not that bad,” Minho said with a laugh as he opened the passenger side door for Jisung. “And honestly flying is probably more dangerous, and there’s a chance our flight could get canceled. I don’t know how my parents are gonna get home.” 

Jisung hummed, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “I guess so…” It still made him nervous—it didn’t help that he had never been further north than New York City and never more than a couple of hours away from his home, which was further south to begin with. It was still hard for him to process the fact that Minho had to drive so far to get home. 

When they’d first met in their freshman year of college, Jisung had been shocked to hear the distance. Six hours? Minho had just laughed. He regularly drove two or more hours to just do regular things because as he had told Jisung, “There is nothing where I live. The closest Wendy’s is like an hour away. Here I just walk five minutes and boom. Five different restaurants and a Wendy’s.” 

Sometimes Jisung was even more shocked that they’d become best friends despite their differences. Jisung was the definition of a city boy, used to being constantly surrounded by people and buildings and noises. On the other hand, Minho was used to back roads with more rocks than pavement, and his mom raised chickens and bees, and his dad hunted, and he’d learned to ski by the time he was eight. And yet they fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle Jisung sometimes thought. His roommate Felix often said they were, “the yin to each other’s yang.”

And so when Jisung was nervous or stressed, Minho balanced him out with his suave confidence and a warmth that managed to soothe Jisung’s anxieties like nothing else. Even if sometimes it took a little extra loving—it was good that Minho was the most loving person he had ever met. Even when he messed with him and poked and prodded at him. Minho was unique, but it was exactly the kind of unique Jisung needed.

“Do you not trust me?” Minho asked, giving Jisung a teasing smirk. He slipped into the driver’s seat, turning on the ignition and cranking the heat up. The temperatures were already low and would only get lower as they traveled. “I’m hurt.” 

“I do, I do!” Jisung quickly assured him, nodding his head frantically. “This is just new. I’m just nervous. And you know driving sometimes makes me nervous….” Sometimes it made him feel bad—he still didn’t have his license and even being in the passenger seat made him nervous, especially with certain types of weather. But he did trust Minho. He had driven him through countless situations and to countless places and he knew he was a good driver. 

“Hey,” Minho said softly, reaching over the center console to place his hand on Jisung’s upper thigh. Jisung’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes briefly flitting down to Minho’s hand. His hand was small, but it still managed to make Jisung feel tiny , especially with how the touch sent burning warmth through his thigh. It didn’t help that Minho’s fingers dug lightly into the soft flesh under his jeans, causing the skin around it to tingle—the gesture was meant to be comforting, but it just made Jisung feel helpless in the best way. “It’ll be fine, ‘kay? If it gets too bad we’ll stop. I’ll keep you safe, Jisung.” 

Jisung’s heart leapt to his throat when Minho squeezed softly, his thumb caressing back and forth. Taking in a slow breath, Jisung wet his lips. “Y-yeah… I know you will.” 

With a smile, Minho gave Jisung’s thigh a nice pat before removing his hand to place it on the steering wheel. “There you go. We’ll be fine. I’d never let my Jisungie be in danger.” 

Heat flooded Jisung’s cheeks and he smiled down at his lap. My Jisungie. It didn’t mean anything to Minho, of that much Jisung was sure. But it still made his heart run a marathon in his chest.

They set out on their journey, Minho turning on the radio to play Christmas music on their ride up. That quickly calmed Jisung’s spirit and helped him settle into the seat comfortably. Christmas always made Jisung happy, no matter how bad his mood was. And even if he was nervous, he would be spending the holiday with Minho. He would be in Minho’s house, seeing his childhood home, his childhood town, and maybe sharing a room with Minho, too. Minho’s house had a guest bedroom, but he and Jisung had shared the same bed before, so there was a chance Jisung would get to….

The thought had his face heating up again, and he rubbed his cheeks, hoping to dispel the warmth. 

As often happened when Jisung drove with Minho, his attention ended up turning to him about five minutes into the trip. Minho usually drove with one hand, which made the veins under his skin pop out in a way that made Jisung’s mouth feel dry. From his seat, he could easily admire the sharp planes of Minho’s face, the slope of his nose, the set of his jaw as he concentrated on navigating the city traffic. He could trace the shape of his lips with his eyes and picture what it would feel like to press his lips to the curve of Minho’s cheeks, which had softened up more recently. 

Being able to admire Minho so freely was dangerous for Jisung’s heart; it flipped when he turned the corner with one hand, a picture of perfect ease even under the pressure of impending bad weather. Minho made him feel safe in all his capabilities and confidence. But he also made him feel so much more than that. Sometimes Jisung was scared by the intensity of his feelings, which went far beyond just wanting to kiss him or feel up the curves and angles of his body. As much as he wanted to do that, Minho was more. And it hurt Jisung as much as it scared him because he knew he could never have what he wanted.

Jisung’s thoughts and the endless stream of Christmas music managed to distract him for a decent amount of the trip—about two of the six hours they needed to travel. But it was at the two hour mark that the snow started falling, thick snowflakes hitting against the windows. Through the cloud, Jisung could make out piles already collecting on the side of the road. Minho had turned on the windshield wipers to get rid of the snow blocking his view. 

Jisung swallowed. 

“Minho,” he said softly. His body turned towards Minho, who didn’t look a bit worried. “Minho, are you sure this is okay?” 

“It’s fine, Sung,” Minho reassured him, smiling softly. “I’m careful, okay? And the roads will probably be plowed by the time we get further.” 

With a hum, Jisung nodded and rested his cheek against the cold window to keep an eye on how bad the roads were. “It’s probably gonna make the drive longer,” he said with a pout. 

Minho laughed softly, the sound sending little sparks up Jisung’s spine. He loved when Minho laughed. That was probably one of the first things that attracted Jisung to Minho, other than the fact that he was godly levels of handsome. 

“You’re that upset about spending more time in the car with me, baby?” Minho asked, throwing a quick glance at Jisung from the driver’s seat. 

A shiver went through Jisung and it wasn’t because of the cold window. Whenever Minho called Jisung baby, it made his stomach swirl and his breath caught in his throat. And he did it so casually with no regard for Jisung’s heart. Maybe the problem wasn’t spending longer in the car because of the snow, but because spending longer in the car meant more time for Jisung’s sanity to slip away. 

“No, I like spending time with you,” Jisung said earnestly. Even if his cheeks were now pink with blush, so hot they melted the snow hitting the window where he rested, he couldn’t let Minho actually think he didn’t want to be with him longer. “You know what I mean….” 

“I know, I’m just teasing.” With a grin on his face, Minho reached over the center console like he had before they started the trip and gave Jisung’s thigh a little pat, then left his hand there to rest. Jisung sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, fists clenching at his sides. Oh gosh. “We’re gonna be okay. Before long we’re gonna be home and we can sit around the fire and drink hot chocolate and won’t have to think about this ever again!”

“And you can make kimchi stew like you did that one time?” Jisung asked as he tried to ignore the pressure of Minho’s hand still on his thigh. 

“My mom can make kimchi stew, because she does it way better than me,” Minho said with a nod. His parents were away visiting family in another state but would be flying home to arrive in time for Christmas Eve. They would have already gotten on the plane by the time Minho and Jisung arrived. “Ugh, I can’t wait to get home and have my parents' food and not all the dining hall food. I swear I end up gaining the freshman fifteen every semester and the food isn’t even good.” 

“I like it,” Jisung said, reaching over to poke Minho’s side. “It makes you look like a fluffy house cat. And isn’t like…most of you muscle anyway?” His eyes trailed over Minho’s body and landed on his chest where even through the fabric of his sweater, Jisung could make out the curve of his pecs. 

“Pft, you would say that,” Minho said, shaking his head. “Why are you looking at my muscles so much, Jisungie? You like them that much?” 

Jisung crossed his arms with a pout. “Don’t tease me,” he whined. “It’s not like they aren’t right there and like you aren’t shoving them in my face twenty-four seven. You flex them literally and metaphorically.” 

Minho rolled his eyes but Jisung caught the blush high on his cheeks. It made him proud to know he could fluster him a bit, even if it was only a fraction of how much he flustered Jisung. “Whatever, at least I have muscles,” he said, giving Jisung’s thigh a little squeeze. 

Heat pooled in Jisung’s stomach and he looked away. “I…I have muscles,” he said weakly. It was amazing how easily Minho could make him feel pathetic, and not in a bad way. He was just weak, weak, weak. 

“Sure, honey,” Minho snickered. He drew his hand away from Jisung’s thigh to place it back on the steering wheel and he mourned the loss of his warm touch. The heat in the car wasn’t enough, not when Minho’s hand ignited a forest fire in Jisung and now he had to deal with the loss. 

Another hour went by before the snow cleared up at all, and at that point, Jisung’s stomach began to growl. He looked at Minho with the biggest eyes he could muster, aware that he was probably distracting him from driving. Now with the roads clearer, he could afford that a bit. 

“Are you really hungry already?” Minho asked with a sigh. To someone else, he might’ve sounded annoyed, but the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him. 

“It’s been three hours, we still have like three more to go. Please?” Jisung asked, fluttering his lashes. 

Minho sighed again but his lips had twitched up into more of a smile. “Alright, fine, we’ll stop somewhere.” 

Fifteen minutes later Minho pulled off at an exit and bought them both food because he never allowed Jisung to pay for anything. They had been friends for three years and not once had Jisung paid for one of their meals together or a single outing they went on. He’d tried to be sneaky about it a few times but Minho caught him every time. 

Once they left, the snow picked up again, and Jisung tried not to pay attention to it. They had switched from Christmas music to some instrumental station that was calm enough to lull Jisung to sleep. He managed to doze off for a good half an hour, peacefully sleeping even with the bumps in the road from the frost heaves. But at some point, he heard the softness of Minho’s voice over the music, pulling him out of his slumber. He cracked his eyes open and shifted slightly in his sleep. 

“Sorry, I gotta whisper, Jisung is asleep,” Minho said softly. The phone was propped in the phone holder, but Jisung could dimly make out “Mom” on the screen. 

“Okay, this will be quick,” his mom said on the other end. She was on speaker so Jisung could hear without straining. “Your dad and I have run into a little problem.” 

Minho’s eyebrows furrowed and he frowned. “What is it?” he asked, worry lacing his tone. 

“Our flight for tonight was canceled. Dad is off trying to figure it out,” she said, causing Jisung to sit up in his seat. What? 

“What?” Minho exclaimed, echoing Jisung’s thoughts. “What do you mean it was canceled?” 

“As I said, honey,” she began, “It was canceled because of the weather. The flight attendants couldn’t make it to the flight. And everything is booked out right now because of the holidays. The earliest flight would arrive here after Christmas. I’m so sorry, honey.” 

Minho’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, knuckles turning white. “Seriously? Why can’t they just find other flight attendants? This whole thing was to be able to visit you guys for Christmas instead of just staying at the university.” 

As he watched Minho talk to his mom, Jisung bit his lip. He felt so bad, and it wasn’t even his fault. He just knew how much Minho had been looking forward to seeing his parents. Jisung had been looking forward to seeing them too, but he couldn’t imagine the disappointment Minho was feeling. 

“I know, I know,” his mom said softly. A sigh followed her voice. “It’s really frustrating ‘cause that means our Christmas plans are kind of down the drain. But we’ll be there for New Years! And you’ll have Jisung with you. We’re still trying to figure something out, too, but for now it’s not looking too good.” 

Sighing, Minho nodded despite his mom not being able to see. “Alright,” he said softly. His shoulders slumped as he spoke and Jisung felt an ache in his stomach. “We’ll try to make the best of it. Maybe we can have a little Christmas celebration after?” 

“Yeah, we can do that,” his mom said. Jisung could hear the smile in her voice. “I’m so sorry about this, we’re really frustrated too. But hopefully it won’t ruin the holiday for you too much.” 

With a sigh, Minho forced a smile on his face. “Don’t worry, I’ll live. Jisung and I will wreck the house while you’re gone, don’t worry.” 

Jisung couldn’t help snickering as his mom gasped on the other end. “You absolutely will not!” 

Minho chuckled, which made Jisung’s heart settle a little. At least he could find some humor in the situation, as disappointing as it was. “Don’t worry, we won’t. We’ll take care of everything. But uh, I kind of have to go,” he said. “The snow is coming down pretty bad here and I’m driving, so.” 

“Got it,” she said. “Be careful. Keep Jisung safe, okay? I’ll talk to you later and keep you updated.” 

A blush crept up on Jisung’s face as Minho smiled in response to her comment to “ Keep Jisung safe.” “Oh I will, don’t worry. He’s my top priority.” He sent a grin Jisung’s way before turning his eyes back to the road. “Bye, mom, talk to you later.” 

As soon as he hung up the phone, Minho let out a long sigh. Jisung’s lips turned down into a frown. He reached out and brushed his fingers over Minho’s knuckles in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. 

“I’m sorry it’s all ruined, Minho,” he said softly. 

With a shake of his head, Minho gave Jisung a soft smile. “It’s alright. It happens. At least we get some time to ourselves, yeah?” 

Jisung’s mouth suddenly went dry and he gulped. Oh. He hadn’t thought about that. He and Minho would be alone for Christmas together. Completely and utterly alone. Together. 

“Oh,” he said dumbly. He wet his lips and tugged the fat between his teeth. “Um, yeah. Yeah, that’s right. We do. Get that.” Internally, he cursed himself. Way to be subtle. 

“Mhm,” Minho hummed. “Sorry for waking you, though. You were sleeping so soundly.” 

“It’s okay,” Jisung said with a shrug. “I’ll probably go back to sleep again, if that’s okay. I mean, since we’ll be spending so much time together.” 

He giggled as Minho seemed to contemplate it for a moment, finally relenting with a long sigh. “I guess so. You can sleep, Sungie. We’ve still got almost three hours left.” 

As if on cue, Jisung yawned; his eyes felt heavy again. “Okay. Don’t crash the car while I’m asleep, okay?” Scooting back, he laid his head against the seat, eyelids fluttering shut. 

Minho scoffed. “You know I would never. I promised to keep you safe.” 

Jisung let out a noncommittal hum. He could already feel himself dozing off. “Mhmmm,” he hummed. “You keep doing that….” 

Three hours of fitful sleep later, they arrived at Minho’s house. It was fifteen minutes outside of any true town and surrounded by woods on either side. There were a few houses across the road and one or two on the same side they passed a few minutes before. But what Jisung was really focused on was the snow. In the time they had been on their trip it had piled up, making it nearly impossible for Minho to pull into the driveway at first. The roads had been plowed but they would have to shovel the driveway themselves. 

“I’m glad I stopped at the store before this,” Minho said as they got out of the car. 

Jisung rubbed his eyes sleepily. “You stopped at the store?” 

“Yes, and you somehow slept through the whole thing,” Minho said, giggling softly as Jisung’s eyes widened. “Let’s get inside though, its fucking cold.” He gestured for Jisung to follow and he quickly fell in step beside him as he always did. 

Inside it was also fucking cold. Minho frowned as he set the grocery bags down on the counter while Jisung shivered, his teeth chattering. He was used to the cold because there was only about a ten degree difference between where he lived and where Minho lived in Vermont, but there was something extra chilling about “inside cold.” 

“I’m gonna turn on the heat and then go outside and chop some firewood before it gets too dark. I think my parents already have some but I’m willing to bet they used up a lot of it already before leaving,” Minho said. He pulled a pair of gloves out of his pockets and pulled them over his hands. Then, with a grin on his face, he turned to Jisung and fluttered his eyelashes. “Would you make me the happiest man ever and put the groceries away please?” 

Jisung internally kicked himself for how his heart kicked at Minho’s phrasing. He could think of a few things Minho could do that would make him the happiest man alive, but unfortunately he couldn’t just spring marriage and anal sex on his best friend. “Um, yes,” he said, not saying any of his thoughts out loud. A good portion of his thoughts about Minho were unfortunately inside thoughts. 

“That’s my baby,” Minho cooed, pinching Jisung’s cheek as if he didn’t know how much that flustered him. “Be back in a bit.” 

“Okay,” Jisung said. His voice came out a bit breathless but he tried to mask it by yawning afterwards. 

Minho went outside and Jisung got to putting the groceries away. There was plenty to keep them going for the next few days even if they didn’t leave the house and Minho had even gotten some hot chocolate. Once Jisung had finished putting away everything in the fridge and the pantry (which he managed to find after five embarrassing moments of searching), he took the hot chocolate and set out to make some for him and Minho when he returned. 

As he went to grab two mugs, he passed by the kitchen window and saw Minho out of the corner of his eye. It was a little dim outside, but Jisung could still make out his figure clearly. And he nearly dropped the mugs. 

Considering the temperature outside, he didn’t expect Minho to have no coat on with his sleeves rolled up. Sweater sleeves sat at his elbows, giving Jisung a perfect view of the muscles of his forearms and the tendons pulled taut at his wrists. Minho lifted the axe and his biceps bulged against the fabric of his sweater. The wood split perfectly when he brought it down in one effortless motion. Jisung gulped and wet his lips. His mouth felt dry and his throat felt thick—he never thought he needed to see Minho chopping wood until that moment, but fuck. He did. He really did. 

Minho paused for a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow—how was he sweating when the temperatures were below freezing?—then set up another log to chop. Saliva pooled in Jisung’s mouth and he swallowed it down, quickly turning away. His hands shook a little as he went to set the mugs down and he had to wipe them on his jeans. He knew Minho was strong and had seen his muscles numerous times. But to see it in action, to see him doing something Jisung couldn’t do if he tried so effortlessly, made Jisung’s head spin. 

Would Minho be able to handle him just as effortlessly? Would he be able to lift Jisung like he lifted the axe, split him in two like he was just one of the logs, made for Minho to use? He wanted Minho to use him; he wanted Minho’s hands to take him apart and break, break, break. 

He barely managed to finish making the hot chocolate before Minho got inside, carrying a heavy stack of logs. 

With parted lips, he watched Minho heave the pile in front of the fireplace and start stacking the logs with a practiced ease Jisung almost envied. He’d never built a fire before and he hoped Minho didn’t mind that he didn’t know how to do certain things. 

“Did you make something?” Minho asked as he put the last log on the pile. He flicked on a long lighter, letting it sit beneath the logs before it caught. Fire crackled up and illuminated the planes of his face. “It smells good in here.” 

Jisung swallowed thickly. At least he could make good hot chocolate. 

“Uh, yeah,” he said with a nod. He grabbed one of the mugs and brought it to the kitchen with a wide smile. “I thought you’d want something warm when you came in.” 

Minho beamed as he reached out for one of the mugs and took a long sip. “ Ah, my Jisungie was thinking of me,” he said, licking some of the chocolate off his lips. “Thank you, this is perfect.” 

Jisung’s cheeks warmed as he looked down, smiling bashfully. “You’re welcome. I just wanted to do something since you’re doing so much…I feel like I’m not really doing enough. You drove the whole way while I just slept and then went out and chopped wood in this fucking awful weather…you’re kind of insane for that, by the way.” 

“You’re doing plenty,” Minho said as he stood up, his knees popping with the motion. Sometimes Jisung wondered how he was still so strong with the joints of an eighty-year-old. “And you literally don’t have to do anything. I’m fine doing this stuff, okay? I like doing things for you and you still did stuff. You helped with the groceries and you made hot chocolate without even asking.” Smiling, Minho reached out to flick Jisung’s chin, causing goosebumps to rise over his arms. 

Jisung sighed as he tried to block out any more thoughts of Minho’s touch. “Okay, as long as that’s really true. Just please tell me if you want me to do more, okay?” 

“I will,” Minho agreed. “You can help me cook dinner, maybe? The fire’s all done.” 

That was something Jisung could do. He wasn’t as great of a cook as Minho was, but he could still help with some of the more basic stuff without completely fucking it up. “Yeah, I can! Can we watch a Christmas movie when we eat?” 

Minho’s smile made Jisung’s heart flutter but he pushed it down as much as he could. He couldn’t let Minho know how he thought of him—and the worst part was, being around Minho this much in such close proximity was going to make keeping his feelings a secret a lot more difficult. 

“Of course we can,” Minho said, breaking Jisung’s internal monologue. “Let’s pick a hallmark one. I wanna see the rich city business woman fall in love with the hunk from the country.” 

“Pft, yeah,” Jisung said with a shake of his head. It was all he could really say without telling Minho that he was putting himself in the role of the rich city girl falling for the country boy. Some parts of cliches were real—Jisung just knew he would have to sit aside and not get his happy ending. 

As they cooked together they played Christmas music obnoxiously loud, dancing around the kitchen in a way that made Jisung think about the domesticity of married couples. He and Minho worked together like a perfect unit, which was even more impressive considering they weren’t even roommates. That was just how they flowed. 

Dinner turned out well as it always did when Minho was in the kitchen. Their meal was had in the living room while they sat around the fire, cozied up to each other on the couch. A Christmas Story was on the TV but Jisung couldn’t focus on that. All his mind was zeroed in on was Minho’s warmth. They weren’t even fully cuddling, only pressed to one another, and yet Jisung was still faint from it. But then again, being pressed together meant that Minho’s shoulder was fully against Jisung and their legs were together all the way from their hips to their ankles. Even Minho’s arm rested halfway in Jisung’s lap. Like this, it would be so easy to climb in Minho’s lap and kiss him—Jisung would feel much warmer then. 

When the movie ended and the plates were cleared, Minho led him upstairs to where his bedroom and the second bathroom were. They set their stuff down in the hallway so they wouldn’t have to fully unpack to get their stuff before going to bed. Jisung was almost too tired to brush his teeth, but Minho convinced him to before collapsing. He even washed his face as well before the motivation left him.  

As they walked out of the bathroom, Minho turned to Jisung, tilting his head to the side. “Do you want to share the bed with me? We do have another room but I just thought…you know, since it’s cold.” He suddenly seemed nervous, shifting his weight from leg to leg. “You don’t have to though, you’d probably want more room and I talk in my sleep. Uh….” 

“Please,” Jisung said quickly, his cheeks immediately reddening at how fast he was to respond. “Let’s. It is chilly…and what if the power goes out, you know? We’d wake up freezing so this works.” 

A smile spread across Minho’s face as he nodded. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. Come on then, let me show you my bedroom.” 

Jisung nodded as he picked up his bag, following Minho as he led him to his bedroom. 

Minho’s childhood bedroom was just as Jisung expected it to be. In the far right corner of the room there was a bookshelf filled with manga and anime figurines, most notably a large amount of Sailor Moon and Chainsaw Man—a contrast Jisung had to chuckle at. There were posters on the walls around the room from movies, anime, and artists he listened to when he was younger. The blankets on the bed were a pretty green—Minho’s favorite color. 

All of it said “Minho” so much that Jisung felt a little overwhelmed with it. He was surrounded by him and he would be sleeping in the same bed as him. The same bed he’d slept in for his whole life. 

“Your bedroom is so nice,” Jisung said, his voice airy. “It really suits you.” 

“It better,” Minho said with a laugh. “I put a lot of effort into it.” 

He sat down on the edge of the bed and Jisung was about to follow suit, but then Minho grabbed the edge of his shirt and began pulling it over his head. Time slowed as the expanse of Minho’s stomach was revealed, the layer of softness over his middle folding slightly in his sitting position. A small trail of hair peaked out from his pants. With parted lips, Jisung stared, unable to take his eyes away. His eyes followed the path of Minho’s shirt up, stopping at his chest for a second to take in his defined pecs and the way his nipples hardened as they hit the cool air. 

Jisung couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t the first time he had seen Minho shirtless, but in the dim light of his childhood bedroom, it felt different. Like if Jisung reached out to touch his arm, it would ignite and set his whole body ablaze. 

The moment Minho set his shirt down, time sped up and Jisung inhaled sharply, causing Minho to snap his head up to him. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t even ask. Are you okay with me sleeping in just my boxers? It’s just more comfortable even in the winter….”

Swallowing thickly, Jisung nodded. His mouth was too dry to form proper words but he managed to croak out, “Yeah, sure, that’s fine. I-I should get changed too.” 

With shaky hands, he dug through his bag until he found the pajamas he usually wore. He tried not to think about Minho’s thighs when he heard the older man taking off his pants. He tried not to think about how his thighs would feel wrapped around his head or how it would feel to sit in Minho’s lap, or how it would feel to use one of his thighs to get off.

He did try. 

He hoped Minho didn’t notice the goosebumps on his skin or the blush that was traveling down his neck to his chest. The entirety of his body burned and it felt like maybe Minho was looking at him, but he was too nervous to check. 

Once he was dressed, he let out a breath and turned to the bed where Minho was already under the covers, laying on the right side of the bed. Jisung quickly crawled under the covers, pulling them up to his chin. As much as the temperature had been an excuse to sleep with Minho, it really was chilly. 

Minho turned on his side once Jisung had gotten in bed and gave him a soft smile. “Goodnight, Jisungie,” he said, voice loud in the quiet bedroom. 

Jisung hoped he couldn’t hear his heart beating. “Goodnight, Minho,” he said softly. 

If it weren’t for the long trip they’d had that day, Jisung wouldn’t have fallen asleep the whole night. 

When Jisung awoke, he was hot. He’d expected the opposite when he’d gone to bed so cold, but now he was sweating. And when he tried to move, he couldn’t. There was a weight pressed to his back and something heavy slung over his waist. He grunted as he tried to shift, wondering what on earth could be acting as a heater against his back—and then it dawned on him. Warmth burst through his stomach as he glanced over his shoulder to see Minho, shirtless Minho, pressed flush along the full length of Jisung’s body with his face nearly pushed into the crook of Jisung’s neck. His breath fanned over Jisung’s skin, sending chills through his heated body. He also realized that the weight over his waist was Minho’s arm, his hand pressed to Jisung’s stomach through his shirt. 

Jisung had to leave before something happened. Before Minho woke up and realized that Jisung was getting hard just from having his body pressed against him. He could feel the warmth of Minho’s skin everywhere and it was making him sweat for a reason other than the heat. If Jisung were a lesser man, he’d push his hips back just to feel Minho against his ass, but he wouldn’t. There were boundaries they had to have as friends. Boundaries he shouldn’t cross….

Behind him, Minho suddenly shifted—Jisung’s breath caught in his throat. Because as he shifted, he felt his hips brush over his ass, and Minho was hard. Minho was hard and his hips were pressed right up against his ass. 

White static filled Jisung’s brain and he bit his lip to keep from making a sound. He should move, he should wake Minho up—everyone woke up with morning wood at some point, this meant nothing. It wasn’t because of him, it wasn’t—

“Jisungie,” Minho mumbled, his voice high-pitched and airy like it often was when he was tired or half-asleep. 

Jisung’s breath caught in his throat. “Min—Minho?” he stuttered. 

There was no response, only a soft sigh brushing over his back. Then, he shifted his hips again, only this time it was a purposeful roll. Jisung gasped as his cock dragged over the swell of his ass and the grip on his waist tightened. Heat pooled in Jisung’s stomach as Minho released a soft groan, hips rolling to meet his ass again. Oh god, he thought. He must be dreaming. He must be. It’s not about me, it’s not about me. 

But Minho said his name again, another drawn out, “Jisungie,” falling from his lips. The bulge in his boxers pressed between Jisung’s cheeks through his pants as he sighed out his name. Jisung slapped his hand over his mouth to keep from moaning, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. 

“M-Minho,” he stuttered out, trying to think around the arousal clouding his mind. “Minho wake—wake up.” 

Behind him, Minho hummed and shifted again, but this time it was less of an intentional grind. He inhaled as Jisung tried saying his name again and stretched out like a cat—which would be cute if Jisung weren’t incredibly turned on and downright scared. He should have tried to say something sooner but he wanted to feel it. Just a small taste of Minho was all he wanted. 

But now that he’d gotten it, he was afraid he’d become addicted. 

Jisung nervously turned to look over his shoulder and Minho blinked his eyes open. The relief he felt was only momentary because as Minho slipped into awareness, his eyes widened comically and he froze. Jisung opened his mouth to say something but Minho jerked back before he could and sat up. The cold air hit Jisung but he paid it no mind as he sat up as well.

Minho’s face was beet red and he looked mortified. “I’m—fuck, Jisung. Sorry. Sorry, I was—did I—did I actually do what I think I did?” he asked, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. 

“A little,” Jisung said meekly. “I-it’s okay though, you were just dreaming, it happens.” It happened and changed the entire trajectory of Jisung’s life if he was being honest, but he couldn’t say that out loud. 

“Did I—” Minho swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Did I say anything?” 

Jisungie. Jisungie. Breathed out between grinds, a moan of his name. 

Jisung shook his head. “Uh, no. N-not that I heard.” 

From Minho’s reaction, it was clear to Jisung that he didn’t want anything to come of this. It didn’t matter if he said Jisung’s name because he was just dreaming—he just happened to be there. Maybe it was a different Jisung he was dreaming about. 

Jisung was excellent at convincing himself that Minho didn’t want him because if he went in the opposite direction, he would only end up hurting himself. 

“Okay, good,” Minho said. He ran a hand through his hair again and Jisung took a moment to admire the planes of his face. The morning light reflected off his skin in gold, highlighting the point of his nose and the curve of his cheekbones. He was so gorgeous it made Jisung sick. “I’m still sorry, we can just move on, yeah? Pretend it never happened?” 

Jisung nodded even though he knew he would probably use that as fuel to get off for weeks. Months, maybe. “Yep!” was what he said though. “What are we talking about? No clue.” 

Minho laughed softly and reached out to ruffle Jisung’s hair. “Good. Let’s get dressed and make breakfast. I’ll uh—I’ll go to the bathroom and take care of this. Or something.” 

He quickly hopped out of the bed, covering his crotch with his hands, and grabbed a change of clothes with him. Jisung tried not to stare as he walked away. 

When he reached the door, though, he paused and looked over at Jisung. “Oh uh, kind of forgot, with The Incident and all, but Merry Christmas Eve.” 

Jisung had to giggle at that, grinning despite the situation that had just transpired. “Merry Christmas Eve, Minho.”

When he was safely gone, Jisung collapsed back against the bed and let out a heavy sigh. Now that he was gone, Jisung could acknowledge that he was hard now, his cock tenting his pajama pants. He slid his hand down his body and brushed his fingers over his dick, hissing at the shock of pleasure that traveled through his body. He couldn’t get off, not with the possibility of Minho returning any moment. 

Withdrawing his hand, he squeezed his eyes shut. Getting through the day was going to be a nightmare but he had to do it. And he had to do it without thinking of Minho’s cock the whole time. 

Much to Jisung’s surprise, the rest of the morning went by rather smoothly. After a few minutes, he managed to get himself up to change and willed his erection down with thoughts of old grandmas and yellow snow. Minho made them breakfast while Jisung made them hot chocolate again and they ate across from each other at the dining room table. Once they were finished eating, Minho started another fire while Jisung went to get out the Christmas decorations. Once Minho was free, they began setting up what his parents hadn’t already; there was a tree in the living room but they still had to put on all the ornaments and lights. 

Jisung pulled garland over the fireplace mantle while Minho wrapped the lights around the tree. Mariah Carey played in the background, and probably for the first time since before college, Jisung felt giddy about Christmas. Despite Christmas being his favorite holiday, it hadn't felt the same in a while. But as he and Minho decorated to the sound of Christmas music and the crackling of fire, he felt like he was a kid again. 

It had also started snowing at around noon, adding to the piles already collected outside. Despite the fact that it was midday, it already looked dark because of the clouds and heavy snowfall. Since they weren’t on the road, Jisung loved it. He hadn’t seen a snowstorm like that in a long time, and there was a chance he had never seen one like that. The house was well insulted but they could still hear the wind whooshing against the windows and through the cracks in the door. 

When Jisung glanced out the window, he almost laughed; the car was completely buried. 

“We might be stuck here for tomorrow,” Minho said, coming up behind Jisung to look. “It’s a good thing I brought all the wood in yesterday.” 

Jisung nearly jumped when Minho leaned over him to get a better look. He could have asked Jisung to move, but he didn’t, instead deciding to get in his personal space. All he could think about was Minho with his chest pressed to his back, Minho with his hard cock dragging over Jisung’s ass, Minho with his hand pressing into his stomach, Minho—

When Minho moved back Jisung exhaled shakily. He was doing fine and then Minho had to get close to him again. He was going to die. 

The rest of the day was spent lounging around and eating far too much food. Minho made lunch and afterwards they baked cookies together, of which Jisung had far too many. He whined about it to Minho who then offered to rub his tummy for him—Jisung quickly declined. It wasn’t that he didn’t want it—he was just certain that if Minho got his hands on him in any way, he would get hard immediately. And he’d already struggled to get his boner down that morning. He couldn’t be blue-balled again. 

Unfortunately, he couldn’t fully avoid being touched by Minho in some way because he was touchy. Like his hand on Jisung’s thigh in the car, or pinching Jisung’s cheeks, or putting his arm around him while they were watching a movie—it was always something. And as they watched their second Christmas movie of the day—How the Grinch Stole Christmas—Minho sat with his side pressed to Jisung and his arm wrapped around his shoulders. It made Jisung feel too warm, the heat of his own blush scorching his skin more than the fire. But he didn’t make any attempt to move. Even if his heart raced and his breath felt stuck in his chest, he would never push Minho away. 

Minho started to absentmindedly rub Jisung’s shoulder when the movie ended as he scrolled mindlessly through the various Christmas movies. Jisung’s skin tingled through his sweater when Minho’s fingers pressed down against the relaxed muscle, pads running slow circles. There was nothing in Jisung’s mind that was focused on finding something else to watch. And something told him that Minho wasn’t really focused on that either. 

After a moment, Minho chose some random Christmas movie neither of them had seen before. He leaned back against the couch and glanced over at Jisung, looking at him expectantly. 

“What?” Jisung asked, tilting his head. 

Minho hummed—he was still continuing to rub Jisung’s shoulder. “Nothing…just…” For a split second, Jisung could have sworn that Minho’s eyes flitted to his lips. But no sooner than Jisung had seen the glance was it gone. 

“What?” he asked again, heart fluttering in his chest. At this angle, they were close enough that if either of them leaned any farther, they would kiss. Jisung wanted to kiss him so badly. 

But then Minho’s lips twitched up in a smirk and he leaned back. “Wanna bake more cookies and get high?” 

Jisung’s eyes widened and he barked out a laugh. “Are you serious?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah, why not?” he said with a shrug. “It’s Christmas Eve, we’ve got nothing better to do and it’s cold. I’ve got all the stuff in my bag.”

“But it’s your parents house. Won’t they be able to smell it?” 

“Sungie,” Minho said with a grin as he began to stand. “Wanna guess who the first person was to smoke with me?” 

Jisung tilted his head, standing up to follow Minho. “Who?” 

“My dad,” Minho said over his shoulder. “So trust me, they wouldn’t mind. Besides, it’s a big enough house, the smell won’t stay for long. But they wouldn’t care anyway. Well.” He paused, pursing his lips. “My mom minds a little but not that much. She just shakes her head at us.” 

“Oh, wow,” Jisung said. It was a little shocking to hear that, considering his parents would never be alright with him smoking. The first time he smoked was in college with Felix; he walked into the room and saw his roommate with a bong, and after he nearly dropped it with an “Oh shit!” Jisung asked if he could try. But that was something his parents would never find out about. 

“Is there something wrong with that?” Minho asked with a frown. 

Jisung quickly shook his head. “No, absolutely not. It’s cool as shit. I’m just surprised because I think my parents would strangle me knowing I’ve gotten high.” 

Minho scoffed. “That’s dumb. Who cares about them, though? It’s just me and you now.” 

Butterflies erupted in Jisung’s stomach thinking of the possibilities that “just you and me” could entail if Minho felt the same. “Y-yeah,” he said, gulping. “Just us.” 

Minho was practically an expert at rolling a joint, while Jisung was embarrassingly bad. Jisung tried to roll a joint to impress him and ended up with a weird, twisted thing that barely looked like a joint. Minho laughed and Jisung insisted he could do better, but Minho just said, “Let me handle it, Jisungie. You just sit back and look pretty.” And Jisung listened. He was always obedient when it came to Minho.

Another thing about Minho was that his already pretty hands looked even prettier when folding the paper. The way his fingers moved was so delicate and precise—briefly Jisung wondered if they would be rougher doing something else, but he pushed the thought away. Or, he tried. It was hard when he could map the veins on his hands with his eyes. 

Once he was done, Minho grabbed a lighter from his bag and they went back downstairs to the living room. “Here,” Minho said as they settled back on the couch. “I’ll light it for you.” 

He held the joint out to him and Jisung took it, holding the one end with his lip. Minho gestured for him to lean in and when he did, the older flicked the lighter, cupping his hand around the flame. Jisung’s breath hitched at the action which caused him to inhale too quickly and he coughed a little as the smoke filled his lungs. 

Minho laughed and reached for the joint to steal it from Jisung’s lips. “You’re so silly, Jisungie.” 

Watching Minho smoke was mesmerizing. He looked like an angel—or perhaps a devil—as he took a long drag of the joint while the Christmas tree lights glimmered in the background. As he exhaled, his head tilted back, and Jisung’s eyes followed the cloud of smoke. He already felt high just from looking at him and he couldn’t imagine how he would feel watching him while high. 

As Minho passed the joint back to Jisung, he wondered how they had never smoked together. They had with Felix or when their other friends were around, but never alone. Maybe that was another unspoken boundary between them. Jisung knew he got clingy and horny when he was high and that was a recipe for disaster. But then again, they had already crossed boundaries today that Jisung would have never imagined. 

So he took a hit, and then another, deciding he didn’t care about the repercussions. 

When Minho took the joint back, Jisung could already feel the high simmering in his veins. Like a low buzzing beneath the surface, a tingling at his fingertips. The world a haze, a halo of Christmas lights around Minho’s head. Jisung’s limbs felt heavy and loose all at once and he sank back against the couch with an airy laugh. Minho gave him a look as he took another hit, then blew the smoke right in his face. 

Jisung gasped, waving his hand around. “Don’t do that, that’s rude,” he huffed. 

“You’re just fun to mess with,” Minho cooed, reaching out to boop Jisung’s nose. 

Crimson colored Jisung’s cheeks and he turned away. “Whatever. You’re just rude.” 

“Aw, poor baby,” Minho said in faux sympathy. “Here, loosen up a bit. I think you need to get higher.” 

“Fuck you,” Jisung said as he took the joint from Minho’s fingers. “‘M not even high yet at all.” 

That was a lie. Because about thirty seconds after the third hit, Jisung found himself pressed up against Minho’s side again, a stupid grin on his face. “Okay, maybe I am,” he conceded as Minho looked down at him with raised eyebrows. 

“Mhm,” Minho hummed with a knowing smile. 

The end of the joint glowed as Minho inhaled, a shiver going through Jisung’s body as his cheeks hollowed slightly. His lips parted as he exhaled and instinctively, Jisung’s mouth followed suit. How would those lips feel against his? Would he kiss him if he just asked? Would he take a hit and exhale the smoke into Jisung’s mouth if he was polite enough? 

Jisung sighed, sinking against Minho and the couch like a weighted blanket. When Jisung got drunk he usually fell asleep—when he got high, even if he felt heavy and tired, he stayed awake because weed freed all the thoughts in his head. He didn’t feel anxious about them, but maybe that was the problem. And maybe that was why they had never smoked together. Because as Jisung looked at Minho while he took another hit, he didn’t feel as nervous about how much he wanted to kiss him. 

At a certain point, Jisung wasn’t sure how many hits they had taken together. But it was enough that Jisung’s whole body felt like it was buzzing or humming and the lights behind Minho’s head seemed to dance on their own. “You look like Mariah Carey,” he said, the words coming out distant to his ears, his mouth feeling like cotton. 

Minho raised an incredulous eyebrow. “What the fuck?” he asked, blinking slowly. 

Jisung liked how Minho sounded when he was high. His voice was already soft when he was sober, but when he was high it raised a pitch and sounded like an airy cloud. Jisung felt like he was on a cloud. Loose-limbed and heavy all at once, a little like he was falling, too. Perhaps Minho was his cloud, the soft cushion for him to land on. 

With a giggle, Jisung leaned in closer. “It’s the Christmas Tree behind you. Cause all I want underneath the Christmas tree—no, wait, fuck, that’s Kelly Clarkson.” 

“You’re so fucked,” Minho said. He laughed, his chest shaking with it. “You’re so cute when you’re high, Jisungie.” 

Smiling, Jisung rested his chin on Minho’s shoulder and looked up at him through his lashes. “Mm and you’re handsome,” he drawled. He felt too light to have a filter. Too happy. The world was a swirling picture of only Minho—haze around him like a filter, centering only on him.

It almost looked like Minho was blushing but he couldn’t tell in the lighting. “You can’t just say stuff like that.” 

“Why not?” Jisung whined. As he wiggled closer, he wrapped a hand around Minho’s arm. Minho was warm. So warm. “You say stuff to tease me all the time.” 

“Yeah, well, that’s because you’re a brat,” Minho said, pushing the end of the joint to Jisung’s mouth. 

Jisung whined around it but didn’t say anything as he took another drag. It was like an explosion of cotton in his head when Minho took the joint away to put it out. Everything felt so soft and good. With a long sigh, he let his head fall back against the couch.

Minho rolled two joints—a blessing to Jisung, who once he got going, really always just wanted more. That’s how he was with many things wasn’t he? So needy, always wanting more and more…. And after a moment of letting their high settle, Minho lit the other one with a quick flick of his thumb. Jisung nearly went cross-eyed as he watched. 

“You want more, baby?” 

Heat pooled in Jisung’s stomach at the simple question. His lips parted but nothing came out, just a soft sigh. His tongue felt too heavy in his mouth but the thoughts were swirling, swirling. Fuck, he wanted Minho so bad. And instead of saying a simple yes, like he probably should have, he said, “Would you try shotgunning with me?” 

Minho started coughing and he hadn’t even taken a hit. “You—what? You’d wanna try that? With me?” 

Jisung bit his lip, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Burning warmth flooded his cheeks. “Um, well, yeah I guess so…y-you don’t have to if you don’t want it’s just that I—I—”

“Hey, Sung, don’t worry,” Minho said, cupping his cheek. “Let’s do it. Fuck it.” 

A shiver went down Jisung’s spine as Minho’s thumb brushed over his cheekbone. His stomach felt like an explosion of butterflies and all he wanted to do was laugh. Goodness, he was so high. 

Minho brought the joint to his own mouth and inhaled long and hard. Jisung inhaled with him, as if he were the one taking a drag. Then, he grabbed Jisung’s jaw, fingers digging into the soft flesh of his cheeks, and angled his head up. Jisung gasped at the action, mouth agape. Holding him still, Minho gave him a soft smirk before opening his mouth, exhaling the smoke into Jisung’s. 

Jisung almost forgot to inhale but remembered just in time to take the smoke into his own lungs. It didn’t burn as much going down his throat when it came from Minho. “More,” he said, grabbing at Minho’s sleeve. “Again.” 

Minho chuckled breathlessly but inhaled from the joint again just to do it. He was closer now, their noses almost brushing against each other. When he exhaled again, Jisung went cross eyed and breathed in, slow and deep. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment just to feel —and it felt exhilarating. He hadn’t been this high in a long time and breathing it in after it had already been in Minho’s lungs felt even better. The literal definition of Minho being the air he breathed. It didn’t matter if it got him truly high or not. Being this close to Minho was already a high itself.

What he wasn’t expecting was for Minho to still be looking at him when he opened his eyes. His breath hitched as Minho blinked at him with parted lips, like he’d never closed them after exhaling into Jisung’s mouth. Jisung’s fingers dug into his thigh. “Uh, Minho?” 

“Jisung…” he breathed. His hand found Jisung’s jaw again and he held his face so gently it made him shudder. “Jisung…” 

Without another warning, he closed the gap left between them and pressed his lips to Jisung’s. With a sharp gasp, Jisung’s body went stiff and his eyes widened. In his shock, he couldn’t figure out how to kiss back. He just sat there with parted lips, mind reeling with one thought—Minho was kissing him. 

And he pulled back all too quickly, eyes wider than Jisung’s. “Shit I—I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” he said, swallowing audibly. 

Jisung’s mind came back to him with those words. He needed Minho to know he wanted it; he wanted it more than anything in the world. So wordlessly, he flung his arms around Minho’s neck and kissed him again, fully slotting his lips against Minho’s. The elder made a muffled noise of surprise against his mouth but quickly kissed back, setting his joint down so he could wrap his arms around Jisung. 

It started slow. The angle was off and their lips didn’t align right, but Jisung had never felt anything better. Even though he’d initiated that kiss, Minho easily took control, pulling Jisung right along with him. The slow, languid slide of their mouths made Jisung shiver, his insides melting into liquid. 

A moment passed, and Minho grabbed Jisung’s chin again to angle his mouth better, but it still wasn’t good enough. He was desperate, so desperate for more. More of Minho’s mouth, his lips, his tongue. It needed to be deeper. 

Without a second thought, Jisung threw his leg over Minho’s lap and settled himself down, his crotch pressed right against Minho’s. A gasp fell from Minho’s mouth but Jisung didn’t give him another second to process, immediately going back to kissing him. The pace immediately changed, going from a little soft to something debauched and full of Jisung’s desperation. And Minho’s too. It was so wet and dirty, desperation seeping into every wet smack of their spit-slicked lips. Jisung wasn’t even sure if he was kissing properly. His mind was a jumbled mess and all he could feel was the movement of Minho’s lips against his. 

Minho nipped at his bottom lip when his mouth parted, causing arousal to shoot through his stomach. 

“ Fuck,” he whimpered, so pathetic. So gone already. He gave an experimental roll of his hips, mouth falling open further at the sensation of his cock dragging over Minho’s crotch. The drag felt like an electric shock, Jisung’s blood vibrating in his veins. Every limb was molten as Minho used Jisung’s moan as an opportunity to lick into his mouth, overwhelming him with his taste. He tasted like smoke and the sweetness of the cookies they’d had earlier. So sweet and so Minho, so strong it made Jisung dizzy.  

Vaguely, he remembered they were supposed to bake again. Oh, how much better this had turned out. 

Jisung released a startled moan when Minho pushed his hips up to meet Jisung’s. More shocks burst through his body like lightning bolts—he could almost hear the thunder clap. Every one of his senses were heightened and muted at the same time. He was floating underwater and at the same time he was a live wire, ready to burst into flame. Tingles spread through his body at every swipe of Minho’s tongue, and every grind of his hips had him moaning like a bitch in heat into his mouth. 

He’d grown hard ridiculously fast, too. It could have been the weed, but Jisung believed it had to do with the fact that he had Minho like this. Pressing kisses to the corner of his mouth, trailing his lips down to kiss his jaw. His mouth was so wet and his lips were pillowy soft, leaving entire fires burning on his skin wherever he kissed. Jisung was floating and burning up; he might as well have been in heaven and hell at the same time. 

“Ahh, fuck,” Jisung whimpered. A moan fell from his lips as Minho sucked a mark onto the side of his neck. The heat of his tongue ran over the mark after, an action that sent bursts of arousal through Jisung’s stomach. He moaned again and his own voice sounded foreign to his ears from how wrecked he already sounded. The things Minho did to him. 

At some point, Minho had moved his hands down to Jisung’s hips. His fingers dug into the supple flesh of his ass while his thumbs pressed into his hip bones. He used them to guide Jisung, helping him roll his hips to grind down on Minho’s lap. If Jisung tried to move too much, he stopped him, the display of strength making Jisung dizzy. Everytime Minho moved him, he felt lightheaded. Minho could do anything to him if he wanted. 

“Minho,” he said breathlessly, a moan catching in his throat as his cock dragged over Minho’s through his pants. He was so hard and leaking, a wet patch forming on the fabric. It would be so easy to get off from just this. He could come just grinding on Minho’s lap and make a mess of himself. But it wasn’t enough. “Want—”

“What do you want, baby?” Minho asked against his skin, and oh, the way he drew out “baby” made Jisung’s back arch. 

“Want more,” he whined needily, not even embarrassed by how high-pitched his voice was. 

Jisung could feel Minho smirking against his collarbone. “More of what?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his tone. “More of this?” He jerked his hips up to meet Jisung’s, keeping him in place so that the friction was sharp and intense. 

Jisung’s mouth fell open in a gasp, his eyes rolling back. “Oh fuck.” 

“Or do you want something else? You have to tell me Jisungie,” Minho said, dragging his hips up so that his cock slid achingly slowly over Jisung’s crotch. 

A high-pitched moan fell from Jisung’s mouth. “I-I—” He tried to find the words but they just wouldn’t come. Everything was so fuzzy and the heightened buzz of pleasure under his skin made it so hard to think. “I want you,” he eventually whined, hoping Minho got the idea. He wanted everything! He just needed Minho to take control for him. 

“You have to say it, baby,” Minho drawled. He pressed an open mouthed kiss to Jisung’s pulse point, causing his brain to short-circuit, all thoughts disappearing before he had the chance to think them. “C’mon, tell me, Sungie.” Minho’s lips dragged down his throat, followed by his teeth, which scraped over the sensitive skin at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. 

“Hah—pl-please,” Jisung stuttered. “Da—Minho please, fuck me.” He just barely caught himself, the name almost slipping out. 

If Minho noticed, he didn’t say anything. With a groan, he dropped his head to Jisung’s shoulder and released a shuddering breath. “Fuck,” he croaked. “Come here.”

Jisung made a noise of question in the back of his throat. “Wha—”

Before he could get anything out, Minho changed his grip so that his hands sat under Jisung’s ass, then stood, picking Jisung up with him. Gasping, Jisung quickly wrapped his legs around Minho’s waist, his stomach swooping at the show of strength. “Oh my god,” he whimpered as his dick twitched in the confines of his pants. He pulled the fat of his bottom lip between his teeth as arms came to cling around Minho’s neck. He can play with me like a doll, he thought. He could fuck me like this, he could, he should . 

“Upstairs,” was all Minho said as he turned around the couch. 

There was a smirk on his lips, so smug it made Jisung sick with want. His biceps bulged as he adjusted his hold, hiking Jisung up so he sat better at his waist. Jisung’s breath hitched at the motion and he tightened his arms around Minho’s neck. Even if the movement startled him, the grip Minho had on Jisung’s thighs was so tight that he couldn’t even be nervous. Minho wouldn’t drop him—he felt light as a feather. And nothing had ever turned on more. He could feel the bead of precum leak from his dick when Minho’s fingers pressed into him, their warmth burning through the fabric of his pants. He hoped his touch left bruises. He hoped the burn never went away. 

The moment Jisung was safely on the bed, everything was set into motion. Minho’s mouth found Jisung’s once again and his tongue slipped past the seam of his lips. Spit ran down Jisung’s chin—he was too dizzy and turned on to kiss back anymore. But Minho didn’t care as he worked his lips over Jisung’s mouth, not giving him a single moment to breathe as he stole the little gasps and whimpers Jisung made before they could even leave him. 

“Minho,” Jisung whimpered into Minho’s mouth, sounding increasingly more pathetic. He couldn’t believe that sound was him, couldn’t believe any of this was real. But it was real, even if his head was spinning with it. “Minho, please.” 

“Be patient, honey,” Minho said, voice uncharacteristically soft. He reached for the hem of Jisung’s shirt and tugged it off, then followed with his own shirt. 

Jisung watched in awe, eyes trailing over Minho’s body. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen him shirtless, but the first time like this. It was like looking at him with new eyes. Maybe that was the high talking—it made everything feel new and dreamlike. But that was just Minho. From the soft angles of his collarbones to the scar that rested right under his ribs, shining silvery on his smooth skin, he was gorgeous. Jisung’s mouth watered at the sight of Minho’s tummy as it folded a little, and he reached out, running his hand over it. 

“You’re so gorgeous, Minho,” he said reverently. Minho’s breath shuddered as he trailed his hand upwards until it rested on his pec, where he squeezed. “Oh my gosh. I’ve always wanted to do that.” 

“You’ve thought about touching me?” Minho asked with a smirk. He tilted his head, causing Jisung to snap his gaze away. 

“I haven’t—I wasn’t—”

“Well I’ve thought about it,” Minho hummed, his hands coming to wrap around Jisung’s waist. 

With a sharp intake of breath, Jisung looked down to watch the movement of Minho’s hands as they slid to the waistband of his sweats. “You—you have?” he asked shakily. 

“Mhm.” 

“ Nghh,” Jisung moaned, unable to hold back with the burst of arousal that traveled through his body. Minho thought of him. Minho thought of him. 

“Aww, baby,” Minho cooed. He shoved Jisung’s sweatpants down along with his boxers, allowing Jisung’s embarrassingly hard dick to bounce up against his stomach. Jisung hissed and tried to close his legs but Minho didn’t let him, keeping them spread enough for him to completely discard the clothes. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

The intensity of Minho’s gaze made Jisung melt. He couldn’t remember how to breathe. “M-Minho….” 

“What?” Minho asked. “You want me to tell you what I’ve thought about before I fuck you?” 

“Hng—” Jisung whimpered as precum dripped from his cock. “Pl-please…wanna hear wh-what da—” Jisung caught himself again, swallowing thickly before continuing— “what y-you’ve thought about me.” 

Minho hummed as he tugged his own pants down, a slight smirk on his face. His thick cock sprang free and Jisung’s mouth immediately filled with saliva at the sight. He was so big. There was no way he wouldn’t split Jisung in half. He was going to feel it in his throat. 

“What I’ve thought about….” Minho began as he got on his hands and knees, crawling over Jisung to cage him in. His eyes glowed in the dim lamplight and his lips curled up in a grin to reveal his teeth. Jisung’s heart thumped wildly. Da-dum, da-dum, da-dum. Like a prey caught by itself predator. “I’ve thought so many things….”

Sighing, he dropped his head down to mouth along Jisung’s collarbone. Jisung’s breath hitched as a startled whimper caught in his throat. “Pl-please….”

“I’ve thought about fucking you,” Minho continued, kissing up Jisung’s throat until he reached the corner of his jaw. “Filling you up with my cock until your pretty tummy bulges from it…fucking my fingers into you until you’re crying…making you choke on my cock.” 

“Oh fuck,” Jisung gasped, his cock twitching pathetically against his abdomen. It already felt so slippery and wet—he was making such a mess. 

Minho pressed a smirk against his skin then tugged his earlobe between his teeth. “I’ve thought about making you come over and over again until you can’t anymore. I’ve thought about making you suck on my fingers. Thought about having you ride me until I have to take over and fuck you into the mattress like you deserve. I’ve spent…” he paused, breath fanning over Jisung’s heated skin. “I’ve spent so much time thinking about you. Every time I get off I imagine you.” 

Dizzy. Jisung was so dizzy. Minho’s words combined with the soft press of his mouth made him feel like he was going to pass out. “Fuck, Minho,” he breathed, reaching up to grab onto Minho’s shoulders. Relaxed, his muscles were soft under his heated skin. Sometime, when Jisung was more level headed and less desperate to get fucked, he would have to map every inch of them. But now, his mind was reeling with Minho’s words and the knowledge that Minho had thought about taking him apart over and over and over again. 

Involuntarily, his hips jerked up. “Want—want you to do all that to me,” Jisung whimpered. “Want it all, please. Please give me it all.” 

“You have to tell me what you think about first,” Minho said. His words were still said into Jisung’s skin, each vibration of his mouth sending pulses through Jisung’s body. 

“N-no,” Jisung said, shaking his head. He’d thought of Minho too much. Too often he’d come three fingers deep in his ass, calling out Minho’s name. Calling Minho names he couldn’t say in front of him. “‘S too embarrassing, don’t make me say it….” 

“Then you don’t get to have my cock,” Minho reasoned even as he ran a hand over Jisung’s torso. 

Panic settled in the pit of Jisung’s stomach at the thought of not getting fuck. “Okay, okay…hng…fuck, there’s so much,” he whined. “It’s all so embarrassing….” He rubbed his crimson cheeks. “I’ve thought…’ve thought about you fucking me over and over…’bout you filling me up with your…with your c-cum…want it so bad, please Minho, I want your cum, please fuck me.” 

He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes and pulled them back wet with tears. The tears slipped down his temples, dripping onto the bed. 

Above him, Minho cooed in faux sympathy. “Jisungie,” he said softly, reaching up to wipe Jisung’s eyes. 

“Just want you to fuck me,” he hiccupped. The emotions seemed to come out of nowhere, but Minho was taking so long. 

“Come on, baby, I know you can be patient,” he whispered. “Just one more thing before I fuck you, ‘kay?” 

“W-what?” Jisung asked, sniffling softly. 

“I wanna know,” Minho started, dragging out the syllables of his words. “What you call me when you fuck yourself to me…I wanna know what Jisungie calls out….” 

Jisung’s eyes went wide and he wet his lips. Does he…does he know? “U-um, j-just Minho,” he lied. “Just Minho.” 

“Mm….” Minho hummed, not looking too convinced. “I heard something else earlier…I wasn’t going to ask about it but then you did it again… and it got me thinking. What was it, my pretty boy? I promise I won’t be upset.” He cupped Jisung’s chin and pecked the corner of his mouth. “Be a good boy and tell me, Sungie.” 

A whimper crawled up the back of Jisung’s throat and he wriggled on the bed. Blurry memories of the countless times he’d gotten off thinking of Minho flashed before him: Minho…oh fuck…please! Let me come, please let me come d— “Minho…it’s…fuck, it’s so embarrassing.” 

“Don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart. I wanna hear.” Minho pressed another kiss to Jisung’s mouth then started kissing down his jaw, soft, wet presses of his lips followed by a flick of tongue. 

Jisung’s brain fizzled out at the sensation. “Uh—uhm—” He swallowed, clenching his fists. “I…I l-like to call you…I like to call you daddy….” 

His voice got so quiet at the end that he thought for a moment Minho didn’t hear him. But then Minho paused, his lips hovering over Jisung’s skin. The heat of his breath washed over Jisung’s neck causing his stomach to swoop with a combination of arousal and anxiety.

“Minho…?” he asked nervously. “Say something…is that…is that okay? I know y-you’re not much older than me and maybe it’s weird but—”

“That’s the hottest fucking thing you could ever tell me,” Minho groaned, cutting him off as he lifted his head. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, leaving them shimmering in the lamplight. “You’ve been waiting for this, hm? Waiting for daddy to take care of you?” 

“Y-you can’t just say that!” Jisung squeaked, hands flying over to cover his cheeks. They were hotter than the rest of his body, which was already scorching. Minho just kept making it worse. 

“Why not, baby?” Minho asked. He ran his hands over Jisung’s sides, squeezing at the curve of his waist. “Can’t believe I’ve been missing out on hearing you say that.” 

“You’re so—” Jisung started. Shaking his head, he looked away. “Just fuck me, please.” That same hazy desperation was coming back, and Minho referring to himself as “daddy” didn’t help. 

“So what? You started it.” Minho rubbed Jisung’s tummy just over his navel. “And that’s not how you ask, you know it.” 

The air around them was filled with some sort of static electricity, just waiting for someone to flick a lighter. Air felt frozen in Jisung’s lungs as he stared at Minho, so many thoughts and yet none at all spinning around in his head. Heat flooded his cheeks as he opened his mouth to break the silence—he was beyond embarrassed, but his desire outmatched any of that. “Please….” he said, voice just above a whisper. “Please fuck me…d-daddy. Please.” 

The urge to hide hit him so strongly he covered his whole face, whining behind his hands. But Minho grabbed his wrists and pulled them away. When Jisung looked up at him, he was grinning. 

“Baby,” he said gently. His thumb rubbed circles on the inside of Jisung’s wrist, sending pulsing sparks of arousal from his arm to his stomach. “Don’t hide. That was perfect. Of course daddy will fuck you.” 

Jisung’s vision blurred. “ Hhng, oh my gosh, please.” 

Vaguely he registered Minho getting off the bed and something cold twisted in his stomach for a split second before Minho returned, holding a bottle of lube. “I don’t have condoms—”

“I don’t care!” Jisung had never responded faster in his life. “Fill me up I want it, please.” Claim me, show me I’m yours. Show me you want me. 

“Fuck, okay,” Minho breathed. “Spread your legs for me, pretty boy. I’m gonna open you up, okay?” 

Obedient as ever, Jisung immediately spread his legs and bent them back to give Minho access. Now that everything was out in the open, he couldn’t feel embarrassed. Maybe he should have been—this was his best friend who was about to fuck him. His best friend who’d already kissed him and touched him and let him call him daddy. His best friend who said he’d thought about him every time he got off. 

Maybe it wasn’t romantic, but Jisung could deal with that now. 

Any thoughts of romance or anything else disappeared from Jisung’s mind the moment Minho pushed a lubed finger against his hole. He cried out, back arching off the bed—the small touch felt like an electric shock, sending sparks up through Jisung’s body. Precum dribbled from the wet tip of his dick, adding to the mess already on his stomach. “M-more, please, I can take it.” 

“Slutty baby,” Minho tutted. Slipping in a second finger alongside the first, he curled it to brush the pads of his fingertips against Jisung’s walls. 

Shuddering, Jisung shook his head. “ Nghh— ’m not,” he moaned.

“Yeah you are. Who knew my Sungie was like this?” And as if the words weren’t enough, Minho thrust his fingers, just barely brushing his prostate. 

Jisung nearly cried out. How could Minho have the audacity to call him that and hit his prostate at the same time? It turned Jisung’s insides into mush. And he couldn’t think of any response other than, “Mmh daddy, please.” 

Minho shuddered above him; Jisung could feel his hand shake slightly as he fingered him. “Shit,” he muttered, biting his bottom lip. “You’re gonna be the death of me, fuck.” 

A coy smile made its way onto Jisung’s lips, but it was wiped away the moment it appeared by Minho’s skilled fingers working him open. Minho’s fingers didn’t reach very far, but they were thick and gave him a foretaste of what was to come. Just two had him arching from how skillfully he pumped them in and out. Every sensation was heightened, a single brush against his skin like a slap. So when Minho added a third finger his eyes rolled back and his cock twitched, and fuck, he could come just from Minho fingering him. 

But he wanted his cock. Fingers were good, so good, but he needed to feel Minho’s cock all the way in his throat. He needed to have his guts rearranged. 

“‘M good, ‘m good,” Jisung urged. “I can do it now, please. Even if it hurts, it's okay. I like it when it hurts.” 

“Holy shit,” Minho muttered, eyes widening. “You really are perfect for me, aren’t you? I should’ve known you would be. Of course my Jisungie would be perfect.” He smiled at Jisung in such a way that it made Jisung wonder if maybe, just maybe, his feelings weren’t so one-sided. But perhaps he had just imagined it. 

“Just for you,” he breathed. “I’m all yours. S-so.” With a shaky inhale, he swallowed thickly. “Show me that I’m yours, Minho….”

Minho dropped his head, a stream of muttered curses falling from his mouth. “Yeah, fuck, okay.” 

A slick pop sounded as Minho removed his fingers. Jisung’s hole clenched around nothing, aching to be filled. Even the few seconds that passed between Minho removing his fingers and sliding lube over his cock drove Jisung mad. It was too much, too—

“Ah!” Jisung gasped as the sudden sensation of Minho’s cockhead brushing against his hole overwhelmed him. Minho shushed him gently, reaching under his thighs to push them back. Oh how Jisung loved the way Minho handled him, like he couldn't move his legs back himself. 

“Relax for me,” Minho said softly. Jisung didn’t even realize how tense he was until Minho’s soothing voice washed over him, his hand sliding up and down Jisung’s thigh. He released a breath and went pliant, shivering at the way Minho smiled down at him. “There you go, Jisung.” 

“Mmm….” Jisung moaned, legs spreading automatically as Minho slipped the head of his cock past the tight ring of muscle. His breath caught in his throat as Minho pushed a little deeper, stretching and filling him up so well already. Deliriously, he scrambled to grab onto something, anything, because he felt like any second he could float away. “You’re so—you’re so big,” he choked out. 

Minho chuckled and rubbed his thumb along Jisung’s thigh. “Honey, I’m not even halfway in.” 

“Oh fuck,” Jisung gasped. He already felt so full. “It’s not—it’s not gonna fit.” 

“I’ll make it fit.” 

A shudder wracked Jisung’s body and he whimpered, stomach flipping with arousal. Minho’s fingers dug into the soft fat of his thighs as he pushed his legs further back, folding Jisung in half as he pushed forward. Jisung watched with bated breath as Minho’s eyebrows furrowed and the muscle of his jaw twitched. He was so big it burned, but Jisung wanted nothing less. 

“You’re so…fucking… tight,” Minho gritted. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he took a deep breath. Then with one swift movement, he slammed his cock the rest of the way inside Jisung, filling him to the brim. 

A moan was punched out of Jisung and his back arched off the bed. “O-oh fuck, oh my gosh,” he babbled. His hole pulse around Minho’s cock, sucking him deeper. He was splitting him in half, just like he thought he would. His cock was so deep and stretching him so much he could feel it all the way in his lungs. And he could barely breathe. 

Above him, Minho hissed—a bead of sweat ran down his temple and dripped off his chin, hitting Jisung’s shin. “You feel so good, holy shit, Sung,” he muttered, voice strained and breathless already. 

Tears formed in Jisung’s eyes again. Hot coils of pleasure twisted in his stomach and he needed Minho to fuck him, even if the stretch hurt a little. “S-so do you—please, please fuck me, shit I need you so bad, please, daddy.” 

Something dangerous flashed in Minho’s eyes. Tonguing his cheek, he squeezed Jisung’s thighs, fingers pressing into his skin so hard it hurt. Jisung whimpered a little, legs twitching in his hold. “Min—” 

Before Jisung could finish, Minho drew his hips back until only the tip of his dick was left inside Jisung, and then abruptly slammed his cock back inside. Jisung’s mouth fell open with a loud, cracked moan as Minho filled him up again, breaking him apart with a single thrust. Jisung tried to hold back, biting his bottom lip to keep his sounds from getting louder, but Minho slipped a hand from around Jisung’s thigh and reached forward to tug his lip free. 

“Don’t,” he said breathlessly. “I wanna hear you. Don’t hold back, baby.” 

“ Ngh— o-okay,” Jisung managed before another moan fell from his lips as Minho sped up his pace. With Minho’s instructions, needy moans spilled out of his mouth freely, an endless stream blending with the sounds of Minho’s hips slapping against his ass. He went cross-eyed as Minho pounded into him. Everything in the room blurred to just Minho, Minho’s blush-stained face and fluffy hair, strands sticking to his face with sweat. 

“ Min-h-ho,” came Jisung’s stuttered whine. He hiccupped as Minho’s cock hit against his prostate, sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine at the stimulation. 

“That’s not what you call me, is it?” Minho asked through gritted teeth. “I wanna hear you say it more, sweetheart. Be a good boy…” Minho punctuated each word with a thrust, pushing Jisung further up the bed. “Say it.” 

A tear ran down Jisung’s cheek, wetting his hair below. “Da—daddy,” he hiccuped. “Daddy please. Harder.” 

“Fuck, good boy,” Minho groaned. “You sure you can take it harder, baby? You’re so tiny, fuck, look. I think I can see myself in your tummy, holy shit.” 

“H-huh?” Jisung asked dumbly. He glanced down and slid his hand over his tummy while Minho gave a deep thrust of his cock. “Oh my god,” he whimpered, saliva pooling in his mouth. He could feel Minho moving inside him when he pressed down, and when he took his hand away, he could just make out the faint outline of his cock. “I-I can, I can feel you right here.” 

Minho snapped his hips again, causing Jisung to let out a startled yelp. “Fuck, I can see it. Thought I was imagining things,” he said, his voice sounding rough and airy. 

“Y-you’re not, but please, I can, I can take it. W-want you to break me,” Jisung whimpered. Minho could break him into pieces and put him back together after—Jisung knew it. He was already in pieces, had been since the moment Minho kissed him, but he wasn’t afraid. Even if he was breakable, Minho knew how to handle him. “Pl-please, daddy, I can take it.” 

He couldn’t even feel embarrassed by how much he’d called Minho that, when his reaction was so instantaneous. He cursed under his breath and shoved Jisung’s thighs closer to his stomach, almost folding him in half as he adjusted his position. When the next thrust came, Jisung nearly came from how deep it went inside him, the angle causing Minho to hit directly on his prostate. Drool ran down Jisung’s chin, slipping from his open mouth. Minho punched moan after moan out of him—every breath he took came back out as a pathetic, needy sound. 

“You’re so—so perfect for me,” Minho groaned. The grip he had on Jisung’s thighs was bruising, red marks blooming under his fingers. And, as if Jisung’s sanity could handle anything else, he turned his head to the side just to latch his teeth onto his thigh, sucking the fat between his lips to add to the bruises already there from his hands. 

“ Ahn—” Jisung whimpered, the muscles of his thighs twitching. “H-hurts daddy, hurts….” 

“Sorry,” Minho said, a smile evident in his tone. He licked over the bite mark, soothing it like a cat. “You’re just so biteable.” 

“‘S okay…l-liked it,” he stuttered, cheeks heating at the admission. 

The corners of Minho’s lips curled up in a grin. “Good. I knew you’d like a little pain. Sweet Jisungie.” 

Jisung wasn’t expecting him to bite his other thigh, teeth sinking in enough to leave deep, reddened indents on his sensitive skin. Minho punctuated it with a sharp thrust of his cock, sending pleasured sparks through Jisung’s stomach. Tears spilled from his eyes, burning his skin as they trailed down his cheeks. “Ow,” he hiccuped, even as the pleasure of it overshadowed the pain. Minho seemed to like it when he whined. 

“Little baby,” Minho cooed. His lips ghosted over the mark left by his teeth and he pressed a kiss to it. “I love it so much. So fucking much.” 

Minho leaned over Jisung like a predator. Jisung could only hiccup, unable to say anything through the moans pushed out of him. His mouth felt like cotton—words were so hard. He was stupid off the pleasure. Waves of it crashed over him, rolling him under until all he could feel was Minho and the fullness of his cock filling his walls. 

A toe-curling sensation burst through his stomach abruptly, causing him to throw his head back against the pillows with a silent moan. The muscles of his abdomen pulled taut, like a rope tightening to the point of breaking. His dick twitched on his belly, leaking precum into the sticky mess already there. 

“‘M close,” he muttered. His hands shook as he fisted the sheets and another broken moan ripped from his throat as Minho rolled his cock over his abused prostate. “Can I— 

“You can,” Minho answered. His voice flowed like honey over Jisung, viscous and sweet. Like a gentle touch, undoing the rope holding him together. “Come whenever you want, Jisung.” 

The second Minho’s hand came in contact with Jisung’s weeping cock, he let out a whiny cry, a few tears slipping down his cheeks. “Minho!” he cried, hiccupping as more tears ran down his rosy cheeks. Blood electrified in his veins as Minho flicked his thumb over the sensitive cockhead, twisting his wrist with the aid of Jisung’s precum. Jisung’s eyes rolled back as his body arched under Minho, his orgasm hitting him like a tidal wave. Ropes of cum spattered over his torso, staining his tummy in pretty, sticky white as Minho pumped his dick. 

“Shit,” Minho breathed above him, his thrusts becoming more erratic and sloppy, like he was chasing his own pleasure. Jisung clenched around him, shivering at the way he moaned in response. “Fuck if you—if you keep doing that I’ll—”

“Do it,” Jisung said breathlessly. “Fill me up—wanna feel your cum leaking out of me. Please, daddy.” 

“Holy shit,” Minho choked, his hips stuttering against Jisung’s ass. Dropping his head, he rested it against Jisung’s leg as if the weight of his own arousal was too much. He gave one final, deep thrust, filling Jisung to the brim, then came. Jisung’s whole body shivered as hot cum spilled inside him, so much filling him up that it leaked out around Minho’s cock. Minho panted through it, soft “ ah’s” falling from his mouth as his chest heaved. 

In the haziness of Jisung’s mind, all he could think was, I love him. 

When Minho’s orgasm faded, he lowered himself with shaky arms to lay on Jisung. He panted against the croak of his neck, causing goosebumps to spread over Jisung’s skin. 

“Holy shit,” he muttered. 

“Yeah,” Jisung agreed. There was more he wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come to him. Some post-orgasm clarity was hitting him but he was definitely still high. He felt good, better than he’d ever felt before, but for some reason his throat felt tight. Tears wet his lashes and he swallowed. “Minho—”

“Was that alright?” Minho asked, cutting him off. He looked up and cupped Jisung’s cheek. “I didn’t push you too much?” 

“N-no,” Jisung said, shaking his head. “I wanted it. So bad. All of it.” 

Minho smiled as he stroked his cheek. “We’ll be okay right?” 

Jisung nodded even though his stomach felt like it was twisting. It was hard to pinpoint why exactly he was feeling sad. Distantly, though, his mind supplied, he doesn’t love you. This was just physical. He only thought of fucking you. 

But that was okay. Minho was still his best friend and he’d gotten a taste of more. He could live with that. “Yeah, of course, we—”

Suddenly, the lamp on the bedside table began to flicker and a low humming filled the room before the light flickered out completely, casting them in darkness. Jisung froze and blinked up at Minho, who he could barely make out in the darkness. “I think the power went out.” 

“Shit, yeah,” Minho said, moving to sit up. 

Gasping, Jisung grabbed his arm, shaking his head. “No, don’t go. Please. The fire is on downstairs. We can just cuddle for warmth. It’s probably just the snowstorm.” 

“Are you sure?” Minho asked, settling back down. “We should at least get cleaned up first.” 

Jisung shook his head. Maybe it was gross, but he felt too heavy and sleepy to worry about that. And he just wanted Minho close. “That’s okay, just cuddle for now. Please? I want you to…I want you to hold me.” Jisung swallowed, trying to ignore how his words caught in his throat at the end. If Minho held him, he could get a taste of a little more. He could pretend Minho loved him the same. 

Minho didn’t seem to notice his distress because he smiled as he relented, laying down next to Jisung. “Alright. But don’t complain when you’re dirty and cold in the morning.” 

“I won’t,” Jisung said, shaking his head. “You’ll keep me warm.” 

Minho giggled softly and pressed a kiss to his temple. “You’re right about that. I will. Now come here.” 

He pulled Jisung against his chest and tugged the blankets over them. Jisung tried to ignore the feeling of cum dripping out of him as he cuddled up against Minho’s chest. At least Minho’s body was like a heater, warming him all over even as the sweat on his face cooled and the wind roared outside. No matter what happened with the power, no matter what any of this meant, Minho would keep Jisung safe. He would. 

Jisung awoke shivering. Not only was he freezing, but a cold feeling rested in the pit of his stomach like an ice block. And it quickly became apparent why as he turned on his side and felt the warmth left on the sheets next to him. 

Minho. 

Memories flowed back to him in hazy vignettes. Minho whom he had kissed last night. Minho whose lips had brushed over his body, leaving trails of hot kisses in their wake. Minho who fucked him until he saw stars. Minho, his best friend, the man he was in love with. 

Minho who wasn’t in bed with him anymore. 

With chattering teeth, Jisung sat up and rubbed his arms. It was so cold, but it could have been worse. When he looked down, he noticed he was wearing a t-shirt. It was one of Minho’s—a plain, white shirt that hung off his frame a little. It was generic, but it smelled like Minho. After a moment, Jisung lifted the collar to his nose and inhaled; sandalwood and vanilla. 

As he shoved the covers off himself, he noticed he had also been cleaned up as well. His lips twitched with a smile. Minho had taken the time to take care of him even after he had fallen asleep, insisting he wanted to cuddle. It made Jisung’s heart flutter even as anxiety swirled in his stomach. No matter how happy he was that he’d finally gotten to kiss Minho and have sex with him like he’d wanted since his freshman year, he couldn’t shake the fear of not knowing what it meant. Because at the end of the day, he would always want more when it came to Minho. 

Jisung decided to brave the cold after a moment of contemplation, forcing himself up. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants from his suitcase and let out a sigh of relief at the warmth. Then he pulled on a sweater and socks, rubbing his hands together once he was dressed. He could almost see his breath. 

As he neared the bottom of the stairs, the air grew warmer, but his nerves only grew. He could smell the smoke from the fireplace, which meant Minho had probably just started the fire. That explained why his side of the bed was still warm. His side of the bed. Jisung almost laughed to himself. That really made it seem like they were together. 

Minho was in the kitchen mixing batter in a bowl when Jisung found him. Jisung fiddled with the end of his sweater, feet shuffling along the floor. The sound alerted Minho, who snapped his head up, a soft smile melted onto his face. “Jisung, hi. Good morning,” he greeted. “And Merry Christmas.”

“Oh, Merry Christmas,” Jisung said, smiling back. He’d almost forgotten it was Christmas in the events of the night before. It was a far different Christmas Eve than he was used to. 

As he looked over Minho, his heart raced while taking in his still-messy hair and rosiness on the tip of his nose from the cold. Last night, those lips had been on his. His eyes flitted to Minho’s hands where he held the spoon. Those fingers had been inside him last night. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up,” Minho said, startling Jisung out of his thoughts. Blush spread across his cheeks—he felt like he’d been caught, as if they hadn’t fucked already. 

“It—it’s okay,” Jisung said, even though not everything was okay. Minho not being in bed wasn’t the real reason why. “It’s just so cold. And I….” He swallowed down his emotions. It didn’t feel right to not be able to tell Minho that he loved him after what they had done. He tried to tell himself it didn’t matter, because friends-with-benefits were a thing. But Jisung knew it would always mean more to him. 

“Yeah?” Minho asked, tilting his head as a gesture for him to go on. But Jisung shook his head, chuckling slightly. 

“Ah, don’t worry about it…it’s nothing,” he lied. Instead, he turned his attention to the bowl on the counter. “What are you making? Don’t we still not have power?” 

“Yeah, but I am going to try to make pancakes over the fire,” Minho explained. He giggled softly, as if the idea were ridiculous. It kind of was, but it wouldn’t be a Minho idea if it weren’t. “Hopefully it works, cause I’m starving.” 

Jisung laughed as he patted his stomach, then nodded. He could always leave it to Minho to be innovative. “Yeah, me too. I’m gonna go sit in the living room by the fire and wait.” 

“Okay, baby,” Minho said, giving him a soft smile. “Get warm.” 

Warmth spread across Jisung’s face as he turned to the living room. There was nothing new about Minho calling him “baby,” because he had been doing that for the last year at least. But now it brought back memories, memories of Minho calling him baby in a different context. 

The Christmas tree wasn’t sparkling anymore with the power out, except for where the firelight hit the ornaments. It kind of reminded Jisung of how he felt. 

As he sat on the couch, he lifted his hand to brush his fingers over his neck. He knew there were bruises there, and it only took a moment of searching with his fingers to find them. When he did, he pressed down, inhaling sharply at the subtle ache of pain it produced. He pressed on each one he found, eyes fluttering shut as he imagined the feeling of Minho’s lips and teeth on his skin. 

With a shudder, he dropped his hand. A fog of sadness seemed to float over him, dampening the wonderful feeling of having been so intimate and vulnerable with Minho. He swallowed thickly, throat tight with emotion. What would Minho say if he confessed to him? Would he laugh at him? Stare at him? The worst of all would be if he used his “Jisung” voice as his friends like to call it. That sweet-as-honey tone that melted Jisung into sugar syrup. “Jisungie…I’m so sorry. I don’t feel the same.”

Jisung groaned and dropped his head, pressing his palms to his eyes. “Fuck.” What if the only reason any of it had happened was because they were both high and Minho just wanted to get off? What if he hadn’t actually thought about Jisung like that? What if—

“Everything okay?” came Minho’s voice, startling Jisung to snap his head up. 

He forced a laugh and nodded. “Y-yeah, it’s fine, everything is fine,” he said, more trying to convince himself than Minho. 

Minho blinked rapidly a few times before nodding. “Alright, Sungie.” 

He stepped in front of the fireplace and knelt down, and that was when Jisung noticed he had both a frying pan and the bowl of pancake batter in his hands. 

“Oh my gosh,” he said, this time with a genuine laugh. “You were really serious.” 

Minho glanced over his shoulder with a grin and nodded. “Hell yeah I was serious. We’re having fireplace pancakes for breakfast.” 

Jisung covered his mouth as he giggled. “Are you sure it's gonna work?” 

“It better,” Minho said as he set down his supplies. He grabbed a pair of work gloves from beside the fireplace and pulled them on before shoving the pan into the fire. “I’m hungry and the snow outside is too deep. We can’t drive anywhere right now.” 

“We’re snowed in?” Jisung asked, eyebrows shooting up. “I’ve never been snowed in before.” Now that meant he was extra stuck with Minho. Which was exciting and terrifying all at the same time. Now that he didn’t know what they were, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to stay or run away. 

“Mhmm,” Minho hummed, all his concentration on the pancakes. “The last time that happened I was five and didn’t care…but now—oh shit, Jisung, can you grab a plate and a spatula? And like a fork and the syrup?” 

Jisung jumped up and rushed to the kitchen instantly, and almost slipped on the floor as he ran back with what Minho requested. “Here you go,” he said brightly. “Is it working?”

“I think so…” Minho hummed as he took the spatula from Jisung. He slid the utensil under the pancake and flipped it over onto the plate. “I told you, Jisungie, see?” 

Jisung blinked owlishly, shocked that it had actually worked. He should have known though. Minho was good at everything he did. Good at cooking, good at driving, good at chopping wood, good at taking Jisung apa—

Clearing his throat, Jisung went to sit back on the couch. “That’s impressive,” he said a little distantly. He hated this feeling. This feeling of unknowing. 

And Minho was just being himself as usual, which made everything so much worse for Jisung. He smiled to himself the whole time as he made the pancakes over the fire—too much for Jisung’s weak heart. His skin glowed in the orange light, the heat making his cheeks rosy. He looked so kissable. Jisung desperately wanted to kiss him again. 

After about 20 minutes of Minho going back and forth with the pancakes, he stepped back from the fire and threw his gloves off with a triumphant sigh. “They’re done! And I only burnt a few.” 

He brought the plate to the coffee table and plopped down next to Jisung. “I should’ve asked you to grab two plates, but this is fine. We can share,” he said with a smile, so sweet it made Jisung’s stomach hurt. Minho had no idea what he was doing to him. 

“O-oh, yeah,” Jisung said with a nervous laugh. His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest. It made no sense for him to be so nervous when Minho had literally been inside him the night before, but he was. 

And his nerves only heightened when Minho cut off a piece of pancake with the fork and held it up to Jisung, a glimmer in his eye. “Open up, Jisungie.” 

Jisung’s breath hitched as he leaned forward, lips parting to take the pancake off the fork. Minho watched him with hooded eyes and Jisung had to look away. “Mm,” he hummed as he chewed. “It is good. Smokey.” 

“You like it?” Minho asked, giving him an excited, lopsided grin. 

Jisung nodded rapidly. “Y-yeah, it’s good, really good.” He rubbed the underside of his nose and cleared his throat. “You should try it.” 

Minho nodded, cutting off a piece for himself as well to take a bite. Jisung watched as his throat bobbed with his swallow and found himself gulping with him. “Oh,” Minho said, eyes lighting up. “That is good. Here, have another.” 

Just as Minho lifted the fork to feed Jisung another bite, something inside him snapped. He couldn’t continue with the weird tension and he couldn’t continue not knowing. So he stood up, holding his hand out to stop Minho. “Sorry—just—sorry.” 

Minho blinked up at him, eyes wide. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly, setting the fork down. 

“I just—” Jisung pressed his palm to his forehead and furrowed his eyebrows together. “I can't—can't do this, Minho. Th-the tension, the awkwardness that I'm feeling, the ‘what are we’ thing! I-I know we’re just friends and I tried to tell myself it was okay, Minho, I did, but I-I can't.” His voice cracked and he rubbed his eyes, his hand coming back wet. A few tears dropped to the floor as he looked down, hiding his eyes from Minho. 

“You're my best friend and I don't wanna lose that b-but.” He took a deep breath. “But I love you. A lot. S-so please just break my heart already if you're going to.” With a sob, he covered his face with his hands. His shoulders shook and his breath hiccupped, like the air wouldn't go into his lungs properly. Why wasn't Minho saying anything? 

Suddenly, warm hands rested on his wrists, gently coaxing his hands away from his face. “Jisung….” Minho said gently. “Look at me, Jisung.” 

Jisung blinked his eyes open, but even Minho’s touch couldn't make him stop crying. It only made him cry harder, another sob wracking his body. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm not trying to ruin anything I just—I just h-had to—tell you,” he cried. 

“Shh, shh, it's okay,” Minho soothed, rubbing his thumb up and down Jisung’s wrist. “Nothing is ruined, baby. Can you come with me for a second?” 

Jisung sniffled. “What for?” 

“Just come here, I need to show you something.” 

Despite his confusion, Jisung followed Minho as he led him to the foot of the stairway. “Look up,” he said softly. 

Jisung took in a shaky breath as he turned his chin up. New tears streamed down his face and he whimpered softly. Hanging in the stairwell, right above where they were standing, was mistletoe. “I-I don't get it,” he said weakly. He reached up to wipe his eyes but the tears wouldn't stop. “Are you making fun of me?” 

“Jisung, honey, no,” Minho rushed. “I would never make fun of you. Sungie, I want you to kiss me. I'm not making fun of you.” 

Jisung’s heart fluttered in spite of itself. “But…?” 

“It's tradition,” Minho said. He smiled, and it was so genuine Jisung felt that maybe, his feelings weren't one-sided. 

“O-okay….” Jisung whispered. 

Minho cupped Jisung’s cheek with his palm, then connected their lips in a soft kiss. A single tear slipped from the corner of his eye. 

When Minho pulled away, he didn't let go of Jisung’s face. He smiled as Jisung searched his eyes, a question on the tip of his tongue. “I hung that up while you were still asleep because I wanted to be cheesy and romantic and surprise you. Because I love you, Jisung. I kind of just…assumed you'd know enough, but I wanted to make it a whole thing. I'm sorry.” 

Jisung could barely make out the last of what Minho said over the ringing in his ears. Minho loved him. “Minho, what?” Jisung breathed, desperate to hear it again. “Tell me I didn't just imagine that. Tell me I didn't just imagine that you said you love me.” 

Minho laughed, soft and airy, as he brushed his thumb over Jisung’s cheekbone. “You didn't imagine it, baby. I love you. I love you so much. And I think I've been falling in love with you since the day I met you.” 

A sob caught in Jisung’s throat. “Minho.” Without warning, he launched forward and threw his arms around Minho, burying his face in his shoulder. “I ruined your surprise,” he cried. “I thought—I thought you didn't like me, I thought—” 

“Shh,” Minho whispered as his hand came up to cup the back of Jisung’s head as he cried into his shoulder. “It’s okay, baby. I wasn't clear enough with my feelings. I should've told you last night. But you have nothing to worry about now. I love you so, so much, sweetheart.” 

“You love me,” Jisung said, sniffling. “You really love me.” 

“I do,” Minho said, laughing wetly. “I'm still processing that you love me. I thought maybe you wouldn't but I just got too excited to be nervous.” 

“You're so stupid,” Jisung said without any malice. “I was so scared I would lose you.”

Minho gasped as Jisung stepped back, wiping his eyes. “You would never lose me. Even if I didn't feel the same, you're my best friend. I'd never let that happen.” He looked so serious that Jisung let out a giggle. 

“I know, I feel so silly,” Jisung said, shaking his head. “I still can't believe this. Minho, do you know how long I've been pining after you? I spent the whole drive here thinking about you.” He let out an exasperated sigh as Minho stepped closer to him again, encircling his waist with his arms. 

“Me too, Sungie. Do you really think I was normal about being in the car with you for six hours?” 

Jisung giggled, shaking his head. “Apparently not…” He sighed contently, holding Minho’s gaze. “The mistletoe is still above us, baby.” 

“Oh, I like when you say that,” Minho said with a grin. He glanced up, his smile widening. “So it is. What do you wanna do about that?” 

Jisung grinned, then in one movement, grabbed Minho’s collar and pulled him in for a kiss. Their lips slotted together perfectly, and now Jisung noticed how Minho’s thicker top lip felt, how they matched just like a puzzle piece. Minho hummed against him as he deepened this kiss, his tongue swiping along the seam of Jisung’s lips. With a giddy giggle, Jisung let him in. He could feel Minho smiling against his mouth even as he sucked on his bottom lip, pulling a soft moan from him. 

“Love you,” Minho muttered as he pulled Jisung closer by his waist. 

Jisung gasped as Minho pushed his thigh between Jisung’s legs, forcing them to spread. “Love you— oh— too.” His dick twitched and another soft moan fell from his lips. 

There was no rush as they kissed, no urgency behind it even as it grew more heated. Their lips and tongues sliding together languidly, only interrupted by Jisung’s soft gasps when Minho moved his thigh. And eventually, they found themselves moving towards the couch, never disconnecting once. Jisung trusted Minho to lead him. 

He giggled softly as Minho moved the plate of pancakes out of the way once they reached the couch. Minho smiled and pecked the corner of his lips, then grabbed him by the hips to pull him into his lap. Jisung’s breath hitched as he landed, eyes widening for a moment before he went back to kissing Minho. Minho nipped on his bottom lip as he adjusted the position of their legs so that Jisung could sit on just one of his thighs. Minho’s thighs were so thick that Jisung’s legs were spread with just one of them. He had always loved Minho’s thighs—he’d caught himself staring at them numerous times and now he could feel the firm muscle and soft fat pushing against his dick. A weak whine made its way up his throat. 

“Minho,” he breathed. “Minho.” 

“I'm here,” Minho mumbled. “Always here.” 

Jisung rolled his hips down on Minho’s thigh at his guidance, arousal swooping through his lower tummy. “Oh god.” He had switched to leaving hot kisses along the younger's jaw, each one causing more heat to pool in his stomach. His dick was already hard and leaking. Minho affected him so easily— maybe it wasn't just the weed last night, afterall. 

“Use my thigh, honey,” Minho instructed as he trailed his lips down from Jisung’s jaw to his neck. His teeth dragged over his pulse point and Jisung moaned, tilting his head back. 

“Hnnn, okay.” He grabbed onto Minho’s shoulders to stabilize himself as he gave another roll of his hips. “Oh my gosh.” 

Minho grinned against his throat and pressed a kiss right over his Adam's apple. “That's it. Keep going, baby. Make yourself come on my thigh.”

Jisung moaned, jaw slack as Minho flexed the muscle of his thigh, lifting it just enough to give a little extra friction. He smirked against Jisung’s skin. “That’s it, good boy.”

 “ Ah,” Jisung whimpered, his own thighs shaking as he jerked his hips forward. He choked on another moan when Minho pushed his hips down, digging his thumbs into the soft flesh just above the bone. The sensations were overwhelming to the point that Jisung had to squeeze his eyes shut, bottom lip quivering with every pull of Minho’s hands. Every drag of his cock felt more intense than the last, amplified by the fact that this was happening after Minho said he loved him. Minho loved him and wanted him not just because he was attracted to him. 

Jisung wasn’t even high this time and yet he was still floating. 

He hadn’t even noticed, but after a moment, Minho had stopped kissing his neck and moved one of his hands to cup his jaw. A thumb brushed over his bottom lip.  “Look at me,” Minho said. “Look at me, Jisung. 

There was a sense of urgency in his tone that made Jisung’s heart stop. When he cracked his eyes open, his breath caught in his throat at the look of pure adoration in Minho’s eyes. The look was one he recognized—maybe Minho had always looked at him like that—but in the moment it was so visceral, so intense, so raw, that Jisung felt like crying. “M-Minho,” he whimpered, voice cracking around the edges. 

Minho smiled but didn’t say anything else, because instead he kissed him, open-mouthed and deep. Jisung’s whimpered and his grip on Minho’s shoulders tightened. Kissing Minho was addicting. Now he would never be able to get enough of the taste of Minho’s mouth or the feeling of their tongues sliding together, or the way their lips fit together perfectly. Minho kissed him until his lips were swollen and tingling, but it still wasn’t enough. 

“I-I love you,” Jisung stuttered, muffled against Minho’s incessant kisses. Minho hummed against his mouth, an acknowledgement punctuated by another press of his lips. Just Minho kissing him again was enough to make the pleasure in his stomach feel like it was about to burst, every movement of their lips together pulling him closer to the edge. It was almost as intense as the pressure of Minho’s thigh against his cock. Almost. 

A bit of drool ran down his chin as Minho sucked on his bottom lip. “Hah— M-Min.” It was almost too much and he was so close, he—

A loud bang, followed by a low hum, suddenly echoed through the house. It startled Jisung so bad he almost jumped and both he and Minho pulled apart with wide eyes. “What—”

“The heater,” Minho said breathlessly, eyes twinkling as he laughed. “That’s the power. The power’s back on.”

Jisung noticed then that the room was brighter too, illuminated by the now-sparkling Christmas tree. He barked out a laugh. Now he wasn’t close anymore, but he knew Minho could bring him back to the edge. “Why does your heater sound like that?” 

“I don’t know baby,” Minho giggled, leaning in to peck Jisung’s lips. “It’s ancient.” 

“Mm,” Jisung hummed, once again focused on Minho’s mouth, even though this time it was just a gentle kiss. “‘S distracting.” 

“Mhmm,” Minho mumbled, giving Jisung’s bottom lip a kitten lick. “But that means we’ve got the Christmas lights. You look good with them behind you. Pretty.” 

Jisung giggled as Minho kissed him again, this time tilting his head so that their lips really slotted together. He couldn’t believe how they were made for each other. They fell into a rhythm so easily, even when snowed in, stuck in a house with no heat, or startled by the heat coming back on. It was ridiculous, and Jisung wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Just as he expected, Minho was easily able to get him back to the edge of orgasming again. He knew how to flex his thigh just right, how to kiss Jisung just right. As he didn’t stop. His hands were everywhere, no longer just guiding Jisung’s hips or holding his jaw. They slid up his sides, under his sweater, spread out over his heated skin. And he drank down every moan that fell from Jisung’s lips. 

Jisung came watching the Christmas lights sparkle in the reflection of Minho’s eyes. 

When both of them were sated and had changed, they sat on the couch eating the cold pancakes that they were two lazy to heat up. Jisung sat curled up against Minho, halfway in his lap with how close he was, and his arms wrapped snugly around his waist. This time, he gladly let Minho feed him the pancakes, even using the same fork he did. There was no reason for them to use the excuse that the temperature was why they were cuddling because the heat had come back on and the fire was still burning hot. They just wanted to be close. 

“So…” Jisung started after a long moment of sitting in silence. Minho had his arm wrapped around him and hadn’t let go for about twenty minutes. Occasionally, he squeezed Jisung’s shoulder, but for the most part he kept to rubbing circles into it. “Does this mean we’re boyfriends now…?”

“Do you want to be?” Minho asked, tilting his head as he looked down at him. 

Huffing, Jisung pouted. “Minho, you’re supposed to say you want to be. Of course I do. Isn’t it obvious?” 

Minho giggled and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “I do want to, I do. I just wanted to be sure. Of course we can be boyfriends, Jisungie.”

“Yay!” Jisung exclaimed, hugging Minho tighter. He sighed happily and closed his eyes. “Minho, you know, I think this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.” 

Minho smiled softly. “Oh really? But we didn’t even get to do anything and I didn’t even get you anything.” 

“That’s okay, we agreed to that,” Jisung said with a shrug. “Broke college students or whatever. But I mean it. I think the best Christmas gift ever is just you—getting to call you mine.” 

“Aw, baby,” Minho cooed. He squeezed Jisung closer to him. “I think then it’s the best Christmas for me ever too.” 

“Even if your parents weren’t here?” Jisung asked, glancing up at him. 

Minho hummed and nodded. “Even then. I don’t think we could have made out on the couch like that if they were here.” 

Red bloomed over Jisung’s face and he gave Minho’s chest a light slap. “Hey! I guess that is true though…” He sighed softly. “Do you think they’ll be okay with it? Us dating?” 

“I’m sure of it,” Minho said. “I think…I think they’re expecting it honestly.” Pink colored his cheeks and he glanced away. “I talk about you a lot.” 

“Oh, you do?” Jisung asked, wiggling his eyebrows. “Guess I really am special.” 

“Yeah,” Minho agreed, placing another kiss on his forehead. “You are special.” 

Jisung’s heart fluttered as butterflies erupted in his stomach. He would never get used to the casual intimacy, and he didn’t think he wanted to. This feeling was too nice.

And Minho’s parents did accept it. In fact, Minho’s mom admitted that she’d thought they were together already and Minho was bringing Jisung home as his boyfriend. It made Jisung feel a little bit silly, since even Minho’s mother was more observant than he was. But now it didn’t matter because at the end of the day, it had all worked out. Jisung had gotten what he wanted. He told Minho later that night as they cuddled in bed that it was a “Christmas miracle.” Minho laughed and called him ridiculous, but Jisung was serious. 

Out of all the things he’d ever wished for and gotten, Minho was the greatest.